and the lord said, let there be light
by reallyhatebananas
Summary: The hut had been alive for far too long, and so it sat and waited for the darkness to come again. It always did in the end. ::A story featuring Hagrid's Hut and its rise to world domination::


**A/N: **Wow. I am seriously doing _way_ too many challenges. Anyway. This was written for **SlytherinPrincessxXx's** 'POV of Inanimate Objects/Non-talking Animals' Challenge! Now that was a mouthful. So… enjoy! And review! And read and review my other stories because I seem to repel reviewers and I am utterly shameless! Reviews are my _life_!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter the books wouldn't cost money. They'd cost reviews. I swear, those things are gold.

**vVvV**

The hut had lived far too long.

It had been built ages ago, years after the construction of its mother school. It had been born on a day full of snow and ice and wind.

The hut's first memory was that of loss. It remembered life in a forest, spending the endless stream of _daysandnights _in a haze of green and blue and brown. It remembered its mother earth and its father the sky. It remembered animals, small critters and larger beasts that like to nest in its branches and claw at its trunk.

It remembered standing still, silently mocking, as the world aged around it but it remained unscathed.

None of these memories came to be, however, until the tree had to _remember_. At that point, before anything had changed, it had lived only in the present, never the past, and so things like memories and worries and plans and hopes and dreams were nonexistent.

Then came the day.

That day they had come, those cruel men who wielded sticks like ancient ones did blades. The men had brandished their weapons and, ugly faces twisting in spite, shrieked out in their made-up languages.

Their voices had caused the earth and the skies and the trees to cringe away from this mar to their peaceful existence.

When silence fell again the tree had felt numbness, like the day had turned unusually cold, before _something_ swooshed over it. The most similar experience the tree could compare the sensation to was years ago, when lightning had struck its lower branches. Both had caused a tingling jolt.

After that, just when the tree had breathed a sigh of relief, there had been a great explosion and then...

Then everything had gone dark.

When the tree had come to all had been silent and dull. It felt different, warped and burned, and ages passed before the tree understood—

—the _monsters_ had transformed it. They had used their _magic _to forcefully bend it into this, this twisted, awkward hulk of stone.

The earth and the skies and the trees no longer spoke to the newly made hut, and the rain burned like acid. Animals shied away. Its family had deserted it for something out of its control.

And so the hut began to hate.

The anger and hatred boiled, deep below the surface, even as the hut remembered. It reminisced days long gone and learned how to think, how to _feel_ with a passion. It stayed submerged in itself for so long that when it finally surfaced the world was a changed place.

It was _there_, it realized; it was mere feet away from the looming monstrosity that had once cast shadow upon its home, the forest.

Later it learned that the monster was named _Hogwarts_. The hut realized that Hogwarts, like itself, had been forced into creation, and the two became fast friends.

The most disturbing revelation was definitely the day a man, old, aged, and ugly, sauntered inside the hut. At first the hut gagged and spat, trying to remove the unwelcome intruder, but to no avail. The main seemed to not even feel its efforts.

So the hut sat, waiting.

Men came—men, and women, and children, all dressed in black with those Hell-raising sticks. They squabbled and scuffled and shot sparks at each other, making the most ridiculous faces all the while, and the hut hated them all the more for disturbing its peace. Sometimes they gathered around it while the old man showed animals, poor, captured beasts, to the ungrateful brats. The hut would talk quietly to its one-time kinsmen, urging them to attack the humans while they had the chance. It still resented its family for deserting it, but retribution was of the utmost importance. All else could wait.

The animals tried their best, eager for revenge, but the Cruel Ones healed wounds and bound attackers easily with mere waves of their sticks. The hut realized that its plan would have to be redefined.

And so it sat, and waited.

One day a boy came, with gold-brown locks and eyes the color of the sky at noontime. The hut did not like him—he left a sour taste in its mouth, and his _magic_ was warped and twisted. His eyes spoke of cruelty in the name of good.

The hut cursed him, one day, as he was returning from his class beside it. Years later it heard of the tragedy—the boy's sister and mother had died, wreaking havoc in his family.

The hut smiled as it sat, waiting.

To its displeasure the man was _not_ broken from loss. He came back to the Mother Hogwarts, a _teacher_, no less, and cursed the hut with his presence for year after year. The hut tried many tricks to convince him to leave but he had grown old, and powerful, and wise, with a long beard like autumn leaves, and would not be moved.

The hut watched in displeasure as he moved through the petty ranks of the humans' society, but knew that one day he would fall. They all did, in the end.

And so the hut waited.

Years later the man had not left but another young boy had arrived, one who stood out from the masses of useless whelps. This boy was small and pale with dark hair, like a child of the moon, and the hut felt an immediate kinship with the boy.

After all, he had lost his family, as well. The two of them were alone in the world.

The hut watched in pleasure as the boy grew strong and clever and began to oppose the old man. The hut fed that hatred, whispering promises of power and vengeance to the boy as he dreamt. It told its friends the snakes, with which the boy could speak, to influence the dark boy as well.

The hut watched in pleasure as the boy's soul grew black with hate. It was no longer alone.

One day the boy, like all others, broke free of his nest; only unlike his nest mates the boy-turned-man went forth to sow discord among the land of foul humans. The hut had told him what to do, breathing plots and plans into its dreams. The man went forth first to break its soul, ensuring everlasting life.

After all, the hut knew that humans died quickly. It wanted its entertainment to last.

Once the man was immortal, the hut drew him back to Mother Hogwarts. It raged when the old-sun-man denied him a job there—_old fool_. He would pay.

For now, however, the hut could do nothing but wait.

It watched as the dark boy wreaked havoc in its mother land. The hut no longer cared about her or its father the sky—they had deserted it when it was taken from them. They spoke to it no more.

And so through the dark boy the hut would destroy them all.

Time passed. The skies grew dark and clouded with hate and the hut smiled as its plan was fulfilled. It was almost finished when—

—the dark man, its puppet, was destroyed. By an _infant_, no less.

The hut raged and screamed and drew mighty storms down from the heavens. The child would pay.

Years later, while the hut waited for the boy to enter Mother Hogwarts and be within range of its fury, the hut felt a whisper. The dark puppet, its beloved abandoned boy, was _alive_.

The hut sang for joy as its plans came back into action.

It fed information to the man, sending guides and loyal servants to help him back to complete life. Meanwhile, the cursed boy, destroyer of its plans, came to school. At first the hut was fully prepared to hate him with as much passion as he had the first one, that gold-boy-turned-white-haired-man. However, at first sight, a bit of the hut's ice-cold heart melted.

The boy was small and pale and dark. There was no aura of love around him. He had been… _abandoned_, just like the hut and the puppet-man.

The hut could not hate this boy.

However, there was a flicker of gold inside him, a small flame of goodness. The hut despised this mark of his mother's love and opened a link to its dark-puppet-boy. After all, if it were to keep the child around he could not continue worshiping the old fool in such a way.

It was not beneficial to its plans.

The hut watched and waited.

It watched its puppet rise to power all over again, killing those who stood in its path. It grimaced in sympathy for the small-thin-marked boy when he was hurt again and again for the greater good. That flicker of righteousness, however, refused to die, and the hut grew angry.

One day another boy came to Mother Hogwarts. The boy, like the others before it, was pale and dark. He had a large, prominent nose like a beak and an unattractive form.

Nevertheless, the other humans fawned over him. They called him "Crumb" and "Kwidditch" and the hut despised the boy-man's life of adoration.

In the dark of the night the hut sent tendrils of power snaking through the land, urging the beak-man to kill the still-scrawny boy and the gold-sun-man. It used more strength than ever before, having growing impatient with its weakened puppet, but the "Crumb" resisted. The hut realized that the man was being protected by the earth of his homeland, far away. It would have to continue with the original plan.

And so it waited.

It laughed in glee when the gold-sun-man died. That was the most wonderful moment of its existence, and even the scrawny boy's pain did not sway it.

Gradually, however, the hut felt its dark puppet weakening again. The scrawny boy and the two brats he called friends were killing him off, destroying each piece of his soul one-by-one, and the hut was _angry_.

Oh, so very angry.

The hut decided that enough was enough. It began rallying its forces to destroy the boy—after all, sympathy could only go so far—but then it was all for nothing.

The scrawny boy destroyed the dark puppet. The gold-sun-man won in the end, even in death.

The hut raged and cried and caused storms to shake the earth with its fury.

Years later the hut, defeated at last, explored the land one more time. It found a pale family with light hair, a family of power and prestige and grace.

A family of resentment and hate.

The hut smiled as it sat back, waiting.

**vVvV  
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Yes. I'm weird. Now, I'm not sure if this falls under Parody or not, because it does seem rather ridiculous but the overall tone is kind of dark. So who knows?

Did you like it?

Anyway, I believe I told you this once before, but… REVIEW! Review or I will die miserable and alone! And you don't want _that_ on your conscience, now do you?


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